Not Exactly Making Love
by Xernes
Summary: "Sookie wasn't delicate. She wasn't made of glass. Bill didn't always have to be careful with her. She could hurt him, too, if she wanted."


**Pairing: **Sookie/Bill

**Warnings: **Vulgar language and choking—do not attempt irl! Bill's a vampire, so he can take it. Bit of OOC on Sookie's part since she probably wouldn't be this hardcore.

**A/N: **That sex scene in 3x08 bothers me. A lot. I thought it was sexy, but Sookie was a fool for doing it. I really hope Sookie didn't forgive Bill and that the sex they had was not makeup sex, or I'll puke! This is my spin on it. Sookie doesn't say that she loves Bill in this. I HATED THAT PART MOST! Um, anyway...

_**Not Exactly Making Love**_

by **Xernes**

_Fucking Pelt bitch_, Sookie thought as she saw Debbie jump out her window and transform into a light gray wolf, leaving her filthy, cheap clothes on the roof. If only she had shot her when she had the chance, then she wouldn't be standing here with fury etched all over her face, worried that she might not be holding the same loaded shotgun when Debbie decided to come back and to try and kill her again.

Her whole body vibrated from anger and adrenaline. She held the shotgun in her hands so tightly that she was afraid she might snap it in two, which could be possible since she was still hyped up on vampire blood. With one nasty glare out her window, watching as that bitch escaped like a coward into the night, Sookie turned around, ready to check every room in her house for any of Debbie's Were friends.

_There he was_.

Bill Compton was standing in her doorway with a huge mess of blood dribbling down his chin and onto his black shirt. Sookie guessed she didn't have any werewolves to take care of anymore, and she was actually glad that she did not rescind Bill's invitation just yet. Maybe she would have died tonight, if it wasn't for him.

Still, him being there to fight for her was not nearly enough for her to forgive him. No fucking way. She still loved him, sure, but she also hated him right now.

"Sookie." Bill took one step into her room. She watched as his eyes fell upon her bleeding mouth. Worry spread across his face as quickly as a wildfire in dry woods.

Maybe it was the fact that he checked on her after ripping apart some wolves, or maybe it was the look in his eyes that allowed Sookie to forget, just for the time being, all the pain he caused her. She quickly set down her shotgun, and pulled Bill to her. He came only too willingly; wrapping his strong hand around the neck he recently destroyed and told her how sorry he was. His voice was desperate, thick with detectable need for her to accept his apology, but Sookie was not interested in making amends tonight, or any night in the near future. She was only interested in fucking Bill so that, for a little while, she could forget about all the bullshit that happened.

She shut him up with her mouth on his. Bill's lips tasted of blood—thick and feral. Blood of a wolf. Sookie didn't have the energy to be disgusted by it; she thrust past Bill's parted lips, thrashing at his tongue with her own. She pulled off Bill's clothes, not worrying if they ripped, and discarded her own a bit more carefully. She had bills to pay and being a barmaid didn't exactly bring the ideal income—she couldn't afford to ruin her own shirt and shorts.

With one great shove, Bill was on the dirty ground, naked and hard and looking up at her with hungry eyes. Sookie dropped to her knees by him, pulled him up to her by his neck, and crushed her lips against Bill's again. When she flicked her tongue across his bloody lips, she heard Bill's fangs pop down with a small click. She ran her tongue harshly against them, but not enough for them to gash into her.

Bill would not be tasting her blood tonight. She'd make sure of that.

Bloody hands grabbed her fleshy thighs, leaving red hand prints on her tanned skin. He gripped her hard enough that fresh bruises would show themselves in the morning, but Sookie didn't care.

There was shit all over her floor. Broken glass, sharp pieces of her shattered mirror, a bloody pair of scissors, her shotgun, wood from her door, damaged trinkets of hers from her childhood, undone rolls of yarn, cracked picture frames, and blood. Filthy surroundings for their filthy act. Sookie shoved two fingers into her wet heat, fingering in and out for just a moment until she pulled her hand away from her moist flesh and lowered herself onto Bill's ready cock. She wiped her hand off on his mouth—her fluids on her fingers would be the only part of Sookie Stackhouse she'd let him try.

Her fingers clenched and clawed at Bill's back, leaving bright red scratch lines on his pale skin. Sookie rode his cock ruthlessly, mercilessly, and her whole body felt like it was burning white hot fire. She felt her heart break when she remembered all his lies, all his hurtful words, and how the last woman he fucked was Lorena—not her. She felt like she was being stabbed in the throat by an unforgiving switchblade; she might have killed Lorena, but that didn't eliminate everything that had transpired. Sookie couldn't stand looking at Bill now, so she didn't. As she thrust herself onto him, she kept her eyes shut tight. Her toes curled on her bloody rug when she felt Bill throbbing deep inside of her, pounding into her as if she was not delicate at all.

Sookie wasn't delicate. She wasn't made of glass. Bill didn't always have to be careful with her. She could hurt him, too, if she wanted.

And she wanted to. She wanted to so much that she ached.

With her strong arms, Sookie slammed Bill down onto her wasted rug, her body perpendicular to his. Her vicious palms snaked along Bill's chest, rubbing his skin vigorously till her hand found his throat. Sookie's shuddered and her back arched when her long fingers circled around his neck and squeezed brutally. She fucked him harder, her skin grabbing and pulling at his from the speed of her quick, shallow thrusts. Bill's moans were loud and furious, not because of anger, but because he desperately wanted her blood. He couldn't reach, and she wasn't offering her neck or any other stretch of skin. The power that Sookie had, if only just for this moment, sent her body in to quick, staccato spasms that pushed Bill over the edge, too. He howled when he came, his mouth open and fangs ready, yet his throat remained dry.

Sookie rolled off Bill's spent body, immediately searching for her clothes. Any other time, had they still been together, she would have let him hold her in his strong arms, and they would have chatted about anything and everything till she fell asleep. Not tonight, though; Sookie had nothing to say. She yanked on her panties, clasped her bra in a hurry, and pulled on her green top and jean shorts.

"I'm not forgiven yet," Bill said. It wasn't a question, but more of a comment.

Rage pulsed through her body. She felt like hitting him, pulling out fistfuls of his hair, clawing her nails deep into his dead flesh until she broke his skin, but she swallowed all the anger that built up in her, trying to remain at least cordial with the vampire who saved her life. "Not yet," Sookie said simply.

She heard shuffling behind her, and figured that Bill was gathering up his clothes and pulling them on. When the noises stopped, Sookie turned around to look at him. He looked distraught, but wasn't weeping, and for that she was thankful. Seeing those rich red tears running down his white cheeks might have been enough to get her to change her mind. "May I see you tomorrow?" Bill asked, not sounding hopeful at all.

"Perhaps if you have a mighty good reason," Sookie said in a deadpan tone. "But we're still broken up, okay?" She watched Bill give her a small, weak nod. "I can't be with you just yet."

"Then I'll wait for you," Bill said in a tight voice before he turned on his heel and left Sookie's house.

-_fin_


End file.
